


Swans and Souffles

by Jayie_The_Hufflepuff



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Not Moffat Friendly, Suicide, Warnings for this fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5062966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara Oswald. An impossible woman. The Doctor met her twice, once in the past, once in the future, the same face, but a different name. Why does Clara's face keep showing up, across all of Time and Space? And why do they keep dying? In which the Doctor is not a jerk, Clara has a personality, and the other Claras are more than just shattered pieces scattered in a timeline. Warnings for suicide, canon character death, and possible depictions of violence and death to come. One-shot, with possible short story segments to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swans and Souffles

     The Doctor stared at the woman in front of him. He couldn't help it. He had seen her face before, he had seen her die – not once, but twice.

     The first time he hadn't actually seen her. She had been a voice over the intercom, the faceless guide through the Asylum of the Daleks, trapped in metal casing and shredded down to a mangled semblance of a Dalek. Oswin, she had been called. She had given her life to save him and his companions.

     Then there had been Clarice. He had been grieving, and she had shown him why he was the Doctor again. She had died too, her body shattered by the impact of her fall. He hadn't put it together until she was lying there dying; that same voice, the same words. _Run, you clever boy, and remember me._ He hadn't understood it then, and he didn't understand it now.

     But here she was. Not a shadow of women who'd died, but her own person, curious and clever and a little scared, but ready to rush in head-first to save the world. He didn't know why she shared their face, but she did, even though he could see the person beneath was entirely different. He had only known her briefly, a few hours if that, but he could tell there was something special about her.

     “Doctor.” He blinked. He hadn't realized how long he'd been staring. She was watching him, brow furrowed in clear confusion. “What are you looking at?”

     He shook his head. Explanations could, and would, come later. Right now, they had running to do. “I'll tell you later,” he promised. He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. They took off together, running, and for a moment the Doctor's hearts didn't ache quite so much.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Clara Oswald didn't know what to make of what the Doctor had told her.

     When she'd met him, the children she had been looking after were in danger, she was in danger, the world needed to be saved, and there had been no time to talk. And yet, in that time, she managed to learn a good deal about the Doctor. He was always cheerful, always goofy, but that was just a mask. Underneath lay someone who was hurting, possibly someone very dangerous, but someone she could trust.

     That was why, when he offered her a place on the TARDIS, she had said yes. But she hadn't just gone with him and left Earth behind. She had children to look after, a family who needed her, a job she was dedicated to. But if she slipped off once every week to see the universe and explore and save worlds, who did that hurt?

     Clara had only been to one planet so far, but already her world seemed completely different. She had seen things no one on her planet would even dream of. She had saved a world, by her own strength, she had seen and learned so much, and that was only from the first trip. Part of her was still scared; she had seen how dangerous space could be. Even as she saw the beautiful sights the universe could offer, the fear of dying alone and scared, with the people she loved never learning what had happened to her, haunted her. But for the chance to see the universe and make her mark on it, she was willing to keep going.

     After that first adventure, the Doctor had sat her down, and they'd had a long talk. He had told her that he'd met two women with her face and voice, one in the past, one in the future, and both had died.

     The news had shaken Clara. Why did these strangers, separated through time, have her face? Why had they both died? Did that mean she was going to die too?

     The Doctor's expression had grown serious after she'd asked that question. He'd leaned back in his chair in the TARDIS's kitchen, hands clasped in front of him as he considered the manner. Clara still didn't know much about him, but she was grateful he was taking the question seriously and not waving off her concerns, or ridiculing her fears. “I don't think so,” he said slowly. “I don't know for sure, unfortunately. If I had to guess, it's probably just spatial genetic muplicity.” Clara blinked. “Right, sorry. It's a sort of echo of physical traits across time, usually caused by rift in time and space.” He tipped his head. “Or, they're related to you. An ancestor and a descendant.”

     Clara tried to feel comforted, but couldn't quite manage it. “But could it mean that I'd die too, as young as they did?” she asked. “This muplicity thing, would it effect my timeline as well as my appearance? If they both died close to the same age, wouldn't that suggest a pattern?”

     “I don't see how it could,” the Doctor told her. He held out a hand, which she took gratefully, letting him give her hand a comforting squeeze. His tone was serious as he said, “I don't understand how this happened, but I promise if I thought it meant you were going to die, I'd tell you. And unless there's some fixed point out there that I'm not aware of yet, your fate isn't set in stone. We can fight it, you and I.”

     She gave him a quick smile. “Thanks.” That did actually make her feel better. But even as the conversation shifted away to lighter topics, her mind still lingered on the two women who shared her face. Who were they? What had their stories been before they met the Doctor? And what did they have to do with her?

**SCENEBREAK**

     “How is it possible, Doctor?”

     Clara was trying and failing not to keep her voice from shaking. “I want to know, how is this possible?” she demanded, voice rising in pitch.

     The Doctor looked entirely lost for words. “I... I don't know.”

     They were in a shop on Earth, in Clara's time. It was a regular city, a regular shop, a regular day. But what wasn't regular was the woman whose notice they had just barely managed to escape. She had come out of the shop just as the Doctor and Clara were about to enter, and they'd switched directions fast enough to avoid her seeing them. But Clara had seen her. And this time, the distant past or future couldn't explain away why this woman had her face.

     Her hair had been longer and wavier than Clara's, and had been dyed blonde. Her nails were long and painted, she'd worn a tight dress, and her make-up had been more pronounced than Clara's. Definitely a different person. But the face was the same.

     “She's not my ancestor or descendant,” Clara said, trying to bring some sense of reason. Her hands were shaking as they were clasped around a cup of tea. They were sitting in a booth now, trying to reason out what they had just seen. “Can't be. She looked just my age, and it's my time period.”

     The Doctor nodded slowly. “And spatial genetic multiplicity wouldn't explain this. Not this many times.”

     “So _why_ , Doctor?” Clara was trying not to sound scared, but she was. There were women all through time and space walking around wearing her face, and she didn't know why. “What does it mean? Am... am I an alien?” When the Doctor raised an eyebrow, she added, “Not that there's anything wrong with aliens, but, I just... I...” She took a shuddering breath. “Who am I? _What_ am I?”

     The Time Lord's eyes softened. He reached out his hands. Clara released her hold on the cup, reaching out and taking both of his hands. His eyes were serious as he told her, “You're you, Clara. Whatever this is, whatever reason your face keeps showing up all over the universe, it has nothing to do with _who_ you are. Don't forget that.”

     Clara gave him a weak smile. “Thanks.” She sighed, dropping her hands. “But it's starting to scare me, Doctor. All these women look like me. And I have no idea who they are.”

     He gave a helpless shrug. “I don't know either. But we can try to find out.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor promised to run some tests the first chance he got, but then they landed in a swamp on a far planet and nearly got eaten by giant crocodile-like aliens, then they landed in the middle of a ceremony where Clara was pretty sure she'd either been married or knighted, then they somehow got involved in the French Revolution, and pretty soon life on the TARDIS had sent her faces to the back of their heads.

     In truth, Clara was glad. She wanted to know the truth, but part of her was afraid to find out. Did she really want to know whether she was an alien, or if it was something even worse? She wasn't sure anymore.

     The worst came the day the Doctor took them to some human colony planet sometime in the future. They'd landed in what appeared to be a futuristic train station, and the Doctor had popped off to find a little shop with food.

     Clara had been hanging around, waiting for him to return, when she'd noticed something. On the payphone a few paces away, a woman was crying as she spoke on the phone. She couldn't see the woman's face or hear what she was saying, but she could see how her shoulders shook with sobs, how her voice rose in pitch as she pleaded without whoever was on the other end. Clara frowned, her heart going out to the woman.

     Warning bells began to ring in Clara's head as the woman hung up the phone, took off her jacket, folded it neatly, and set it on the ground in front of her. The companion stood, approaching the woman as she took off her heels and set them on the ground as well. “Hey there,” she called cautiously. The woman stiffened. She was almost behind her now. “Are you okay?” Clara could see the woman shaking, could hear her crying. She tried to make her tone soft and comforting. “Listen, I don't know what that call was about, but whatever it was, it's not worth doing anything rash. Let's just talk.”

     Her concern turned to horror when the woman turned around. _No. Not again._ Clara's face stared back at her, tear-stained and utterly dead in expression. She wore a suit, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. Clara couldn't do anything but stare.

     Something lit up in the woman's eyes as she looked at Clara. “You,” she murmured, barely above a whisper. Clara couldn't speak, she could only stare mutely. The woman gave the barest ghost of a smile. “I understand now.” The smile faded. “I wish I didn't.”

     She reached into a pocket on her suit, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. With a trembling hand, she took the paper and held it out to Clara. As if on autopilot, Clara reached out and took it from her. She looked up again, her gaze locking with the woman. She felt terrified, and she didn't know why, she just knew she wanted to scream and she couldn't. Somewhere in the distance, there was a rumbling sound.

     The woman kept her gaze locked with Clara's a moment longer. That rumbling was growing louder, and louder. “God, I wish I had taken the blue pill,” she murmured. Then, before Clara could understand what was going on, the woman turned away.

     And walked right into the path of the oncoming train.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The Doctor had returned from the shop, a tea in each hand, to find police swarming the area. A woman had killed herself, they had said. He had sneaked a look when the cops had their backs turned, and for a moment, his hearts had stopped. Clara Oswald was lying on the slab, bloody and broken and pale from death. His brave, compassionate, wonderful friend was dead.

     Then, he remembered how to breathe, the world began to turn again, and he remembered. The woman in front of him had Clara's face, but her hair and her clothing where not Clara's. This wasn't his companion. And as wrong as it was, he felt such intense relief that it made him dizzy. Clara had become his best friend in her time on the TARDIS. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her, not like this.

     After some nosing around, he'd heard faint crying from the women's bathroom. Without hesitation, he'd pushed through the doors. He found her huddled on the ground with her back against the wall. Her arms hugged her legs to her chest, and her whole body was wracking with sobs.

     She looked up as the Doctor entered the room. “I was right in front of her,” she rasped, throat rough from sobbing. Her eyes were dark with misery. “I was two feet away from her. I could've stopped her.”

     The Doctor's hearts went out to here. “Oh Clara,” he murmured. He crouched beside her. The tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, devastation clear in every line of her face. “I am so sorry.” He set the teas on the ground beside him.

     Clara hesitated, then leaned against him, letting him wrap an arm around her shoulders and hug her close to him. She crumpled against him, her whole body trembling. In a muffled voice, she whispered, “She... she _killed_ herself, and I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't stop her.”

     “I'm sorry,” the Doctor murmured again. They sat there together for a long time, the Doctor comforting Clara in silence while she cried. He knew that what she had just seen was not the sort of thing that could be forgotten easily. So he didn't push her. He just held his friend and let her cry.

     Time passed. As her sobs faded away, Clara grew quiet. “Why do we keep dying, Doctor?” she whispered. “She was my age. She looked like me, but she wasn't me. Why couldn't I save her?”

     “You were in shock,” the Doctor told her. “You can't save everyone. It's not your fault.” Now that Clara's sobbing had subsided, he reached over beside him and grabbed their teas, handing one to his companion. They were cold now, but she didn't complain as she took hers, taking a sip.

     Clara sniffled, lowering the cup. “I didn't know her,” she said in a ragged tone. “But she recognized me. She... she gave me this.” She held out her hand, releasing her white-knuckled grip on something. The Doctor peered curiously at what he recognized as a crumpled paper.

     He glanced at Clara. “May I?” At her nod, he took the paper gingerly from her hand. The Time Lord carefully smoothed it out, laying it out flat in front of both of them.

     Now that it was no longer crumpled, they could see that there was something scrawled on the paper in red ink. _“Take the red pill.”_ There was a quick sketch of what appeared to be someone's sunglasses, with two pills reflected in the lenses.

     The Doctor gazed at the paper, feeling a sense of dread. Whatever reason Clara's lookalike had to kill herself, it seemed she had met Clara in the past, and wanted Clara to have this message. He wasn't entirely sure, but he had a feeling that meant they were about to go deeper into the rabbit-hole, and go tumbling straight into something far darker and more dangerous than either of them could ever imagine.

**SCENEBREAK**

     Clara hadn't wanted to be tested after that. The Doctor had offered, but she had decided. She didn't want to know. Wherever her face went, death followed. If that was the cost of knowing the truth, she would rather live her life without ever learning it.

     It took time to come to terms with the suicide she had witnessed. It had been hard enough watching someone kill herself in front of her, knowing she could have saved her but hadn't been fast enough. But the fact that the woman had looked exactly like her, as if she had watched herself die, made it all the harder to bear. Everywhere she looked, she saw that woman's face, her own face, she saw her getting pulled under the train and dashed to pieces. Weeks passed before the nightmares stopped. Even then, it took time to get back into the spirit of traveling, without the thought of death and loss hanging over her.

     Luckily, she didn't have to face it alone. George Maitland didn't know what Clara had seen, but he knew his friend was suffering. He and the children did their best to help her. She took time off from her job and slowly eased back into her work when she was ready.

     And whenever they traveled together, the Doctor was always there for her. If she wanted a relaxing day at a spa or a nice dinner out, the TARDIS took them right there. If she wanted a mad alien adventure to take her mind off of things, the Doctor and his ship were more than happy to oblige. Life went on, and little by little, Clara stopped seeing the face of a dead woman everywhere she went.

     As her travels continued, Clara began to get used to life as a time traveler, both the good and the bad. With every world they saved, lives would be lost. Sometimes, it was because of a mistake she made. Other times, she simply couldn't save them. She learned to live with it. Some losses hurt more than others, but she learned not to blame herself, or at the least, to move forward instead of agonizing over a past mistake. And she loved her life; she loved her job and the family she looked after on Earth, and she loved the thrill of adventure and saving people and worlds as a time traveler. As she moved on from what she had witnessed, she was happy, happier than she ever remembered being. And to make things even better, she hadn't seen one of her doubles since the train station. Her face was her own again.

**SCENEBREAK**

      _I swear I'm gonna kill that bloody alien._

     They had landed on a moon in the distant future. The Doctor had promised her a relaxing stroll through a silver forest with leaves that glittered in the sunlight, but instead they'd landed in the wrong place entirely and ended up being chased through the city after the Doctor had accidentally landed the TARDIS on some alien's merchant stall. Typical.

     In the confusion of it all, they'd gotten separated, and now Clara was on her own. She'd managed to slip the guards chasing her, and now all she had was her phone with no number to reach the Doctor at. Clara gritted her teeth, glancing around a corner to make sure she wasn't still being followed. _I'm getting him a phone next time we're on Earth, even if I have to force it down his throat to get him to carry it._

     A soft rustling behind her alerted her to someone's approach. She whirled around, ready to flee on a moment's notice, only to freeze in complete shock. The face staring back at her was identical to her own.

     The woman wore dark pants and a sleek gray jacket, definitely of the era they were in. But she wasn't just a stranger with Clara's face. With growing horror, Clara realized she had seen this lookalike before. Her hair was tied back in the same tight bun, her make-up was much lighter than Clara's, to the point of barely being noticeable. She was younger, by a few months at least, if not a few years. Her eyes weren't dead yet; she still had life to her look, and curiosity as she faced Clara. But it was definitely her. The woman who had killed herself in front of Clara's eyes.

     As Clara gaped at her, the woman took a step forward. Clara took a half-step back, remembering her situation. She had been so distracted by who the woman was that she hadn't seen the badge on her uniform, or the futuristic gun on her holster. A cop of this planet. “N-not a step closer!” she gasped. _You're dead you're dead you're dead you're dead._ Her mind kept repeating the terrified mantra, over and over, tripping over itself in fear. This woman had died right in front of her, and now she was alive, and Clara still couldn't save her. She couldn't risk the timeline.

     The woman stopped immediately, holding her hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Easy,” she said in an American accent. She had spoken so softly last time that Clara hadn't noticed her accent. “I'm not with those who are after you. I'm not your enemy,” she continued in a calm, firm tone. “Unless you decide to make me one.”

     Clara tried to remember how to breathe. She forced herself to stop trembling, her hand reaching out to the wall to support her. “You. You're here.”

     The woman studied her for a moment, looking her up and down. “I haven't met you before.” It was both a statement and a question. “But you've met me.”

     Clara hesitated. She couldn't tell this woman her future, even though everything in her screamed at her to save this woman's life. The companion swallowed hard, keeping back her warnings. All she said was a simple, “Yes.”

     The woman seemed to sense there was something Clara wasn't saying. Something in her eyes hardened. “I see.” She took another step towards Clara, her gaze locked with Clara's. Clara tried to look away, but something in the other woman's gaze kept her rooted to the spot. The woman recited in a hard tone, “Just one, I'm a few, no family too. Who am I?”

     The companion blinked. “What?” The woman was still staring at her intensely. Clara hesitated, running the phrase through her mind over and over, but each time she came up empty. “I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about,” she said honestly. “I don't really know who you are. We... we only met once, very briefly. You didn't even tell me your name.”

     Her lookalike studied her suspiciously. “Well, what's yours?” she asked carefully.

     “Clara,” she supplied easily. This woman had already known who she was last time – she didn't have any qualms about giving her her name. “Clara Oswald.”

     The woman gave a stiff smile. “Clara. Nice to meet you. I'm Elizabeth Childs. Call me Beth.”

     “Beth.” Now she had a name to go with the face in her nightmares. Somehow, that made it easier to bear. It wasn't just a reflection of herself that had killed herself, it was a separate woman with a separate name. But she couldn't tell Beth that. Instead, she searched the other woman's face, looking for the similarities, and the differences. Trying to learn about the woman she had watched die “Who are you?” she breathed. “Who are we?”

     Beth shook her head. “It's not safe,” she told Clara. “You've met me, but I can't know whether I should trust you. There's a certain danger to having this face. It's not easy to know who to trust.”

     Clara fought back a trickle of irritation. “Oh.” Then, suddenly, an idea came to her. “Wait.” She rummaged in her pockets, finally finding the crumpled paper she almost always kept with her now. Unfolding it, she held it out for Beth to see. “You gave me this. You seemed to want me to have it.”

     Beth took the paper, glancing over it with interest. “That's definitely my handwriting,” she mused in a low tone. “And if I told you that...” Beth glanced back up at Clara, considering. “I must have trusted you.”

     She started to hand the paper back to Clara, but the companion hesitated. “You wrote it,” she protested.

     “I haven't written it yet,” Beth said firmly. “We don't need two of these in the same room when I do write it. And if I gave it to you, I meant for you to have it.” Reluctantly, Clara allowed Beth to return the crumpled paper to her.

     Once she'd taken the paper back, Beth reached into her jacket, pulling out a card. “Take this. If you really want to know, call this number.”

     Clara took the card, glancing it over. It was blank, all except for a phone number hastily scrawled on one side. “But make sure you're ready.” Clara looked back up, seeing how urgent the other woman's expression was. “You're stumbling on the edges of a secret that people have died and killed over. I won't lie to you. You're probably safer not knowing the truth, and so are the people you care about.” Beth stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I'm not saying you don't deserve to know the truth. It's your life. But once you're in, there's no out. It's the red pill or the blue pill, and it's up to you, no matter what my note said.” She paused, her expression softening. “I don't know what happens when we meet. But I'm glad I met you, Clara Oswald. If you take the red pill, I wish you luck.”

     The companion wasn't sure what to say. She didn't understand exactly what the woman was hinting at, but she had the feeling of standing at the edge of a precipice. She could either lean back and return to safe ground, never to know the truth, or she could throw herself in and trust in faith to carry her through. The companion looked back down at the card, deliberating. By the time she looked back up, Beth was gone.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Are you sure?”

     Clara nodded, trying not to show how shaken she was. “Yeah,” she said, her tone surprisingly clear. “I want to know.”

     The Doctor and Clara were in the TARDIS's console room. Two days had passed since the encounter with the woman who looked like Clara. The companion was leaning her back against the console, her cell phone held out in front of her in one hand.

     She had spent the last two days thinking hard about what her double had said. There were people she cared about on Earth; she could very well be risking their lives by finding out the truth. And the fear of what she had seen happen to Beth still haunted her. But now, after traveling with the Doctor and saving galaxies, she trusted herself to protect those in her care. Speaking to Beth while she still lived had helped, oddly. She still wished every day that she could have saved her life, but now, at least she knew who she had been in life. And Beth had wanted her to know. _She_ wanted to know.

     Slowly, she plugged in the number her double had given her, and made the call.

      _Ring. Ring. Ring._

      _Click. “Hello?”_

     Clara wasn't as shocked as she should've been to hear a voice almost identical to her own come from the phone. It was another American accent, but with different inflections than the woman she had met before. “Hello,” she said quietly. “I'm Clara Oswald. Elizabeth Childs gave me this number.”

     There was a pause from the other end. _“Did she give you a message?”_ the voice on the other end asked.

     For what felt like the first time in ages, Clara grinned. “I'm taking the red pill,” she told the voice on the other end.

     Another pause. Then; _“Take this down. We'll have to meet up.”_

     Clara wrote down the address and date that the woman gave her, then hung up. She could feel something growing, a feeling of apprehension, but also excitement. The answers were almost there. Soon, she'd know the truth.

     Once she'd collected herself, she turned to the Doctor. “Ready?” she asked.

     He gave her a grin. “Ready.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     They set off immediately for the meeting, landing right where the voice over the phone had ordered. As Clara stepped out of the TARDIS, she was surprised to find herself in suburbia. The TARDIS had landed in a fenced yard, overlooked by a modern, suburban home. She raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly where I thought this super-secret meeting was gonna be,” she commented.

     “You'd be surprised,” the Doctor said. He'd stepped out of the TARDIS, and was locking it behind him. Once their ship was all locked up, he held out an arm, Clara linking her own through it. “Come on,” the Doctor said, giving that goofy, excited grin of his. “Let's go find out the truth.”

     Arm in arm, they approached the house. They'd been given specific instructions not to enter through the front, only the back. As they approached the door, however, it swung open. Clara reeled back in surprise; the woman at the door also had her face.

     This woman had her hair swept back in a ponytail, except for her straight-cut bangs that fell neatly across her forehead. She glared at Clara and the Doctor, hissing, “Your... your _box_ thing nearly woke up my husband!” Another American accent, but different from the other two she'd heard. Clara was starting to get dizzy from how many of these copies of her there seemed to be. She glared at the Doctor, pointing an accusing finger towards him. “And you! Who are you? It was just supposed to be her!”

     The Doctor was clearly surprised at her tone and face, but quickly recovered. “I'm sorry about the noise,” he told her sincerely. “And I'm sorry you didn't know I was coming. But Clara asked me to come. And if it's alright with you, I'd like to hear about this as well.”

     “Like hell,” the woman snarled. “I don't know you. Why should I trust you?”

     “ _I_ trust him,” Clara spoke up firmly. She took a step towards the other woman, who backed up as she approached, clearly uncomfortable. “We don't keep secrets, so it's either both of us or neither.” As the other woman hesitated, she added in a softer tone, “Please. We just want to know the truth.”

     The woman glared at them a moment longer, then whirled around, heading back inside. “Come on,” she grumbled. Clara hesitated, then stepped through the doorway, following her double into her home.

     They came into the living room, the Doctor trailing after them both. Clara stiffened. A woman sat with her back to them on the sofa. She wasn't surprised when she rose and turned to the travelers with the same face as Clara. She wore glasses, and her hair hung in long dreads.

     Unlike the other woman, this new double quickly grinned. “Hey there,” she greeted. Clara was relieved to realize she recognized the voice; this was the woman she had spoken with over the phone. “I'm Cosima,” the woman said, holding out a hand. Clara took it warily, surprised at the touch of the hand identical to her own. “And that's Alison,” Cosima added, gesturing towards the double with bangs. Alison glowered at the both of them. “Pleased to meet you.”

     “Clara,” the companion returned. “And likewise.” She meant it too. For once, she didn't feel dread at the meeting of one of her doubles. Cosima's air was so laid-back and friendly that she couldn't help but feel more at ease.

     Cosima's eyebrows raised. “A Brit, huh? Cool.” She sat back on the sofa, waving a hand towards the empty space beside her. Clara sat on the same sofa, while the Doctor sat on a chair across from them. “So where'd Beth dig you up from?”

     Clara felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Beth. “She didn't tell you?”

     Cosima explained, “She called ahead later to explain about you, but she was pretty brief. So, what time're you from?”

     Clara supposed she shouldn't have been that surprised to hear Cosima acknowledge time travel. After all, it had been a woman in the future who had given her the card. More surprising was her reference to Beth calling. It seemed like Beth had called recently, and she had sounded casual about it, which most likely meant she had no idea that Beth would commit suicide in her future. Clara felt guilt twist in her gut, that she knew the horrible fate of the person that Cosima clearly considered a friend. She cast a glance towards the Doctor. He returned her look, then gave a minute shake of his head. She understood. They couldn't tell Cosima and Alison about Beth's future. They couldn't risk the timelines.

     She swallowed her guilt, admitting, “I'm from this year, actually.” Cosima's eyebrows raised in surprise. “It's the Doctor who's from the future. I just travel with him.”

     Cosima glanced at the bow-tie-wearing alien in surprised. “Really? So what are you then, an alien?”

     “Yep!” the Doctor said cheerily. “Time Lord, last of.”

     Cosima shrugged. “Haven't heard of them, sorry. Still trying to wrap my head around the whole alien thing. Beth told us about all the different aliens and planets she knows about from her time, but I haven't been able to meet any of them yet.” She gazed at the Doctor, an intense curiosity burning in her eyes. “This probably sounds really creepy, but could I study you? I've been begging Beth for ages to bring me an alien to meet, or at least some samples, but I don't think she trusts me not to go overboard with the whole thing.”

     The Doctor looked amused at her enthusiasm. “I'm afraid I can't let you study any of my own biology,” he told her. “My people were very powerful, and my DNA in the wrong hands could be disastrous. But I'd be glad to answer any questions you have, as long as it doesn't disturb any major events.”

     “Not that this isn't fascinating,” Clara interrupted as Cosima's eyes lit up. “But that's not what we're here for.”

     Cosima blinked. “Right. Sorry, I just get carried away sometimes.” Her expression grew more serious. “Listen, you're here right now because Beth thinks she can trust you. But we don't know you.”

     Alison was on the other side of the room now, peering out of one window. “They could've followed you here,” she grumbled. “Why did we make my house the meet spot?”

     “Do you really think we'd fit all these people in my crappy little hotel room?” Cosima answered without even looking at Alison. She asked the Doctor calmly, “Were you followed here?”

     The Doctor shook his head. “No, I wouldn't noticed.”

     Cosima gave a small nod. “There. That settles it.”

     “That doesn't settle anything!” Alison snapped. She whirled on all of them, eyes flashing with fire. “I didn't sign up for any of this! I never wanted freaks an-and _boxes_ and people wearing _my_ face barging into my home!”

     Clara raised an eyebrow. “This isn't exactly easy for me either,” she pointed out sharply. Alison's hostility was starting to annoy her. “Everywhere I go in time and space, I seem to run into someone wearing my face, and I don't understand any of it. All I want is some answers.”

     “You don't rate answers!” Alison snapped.

     Cosima glared at her. “Alison!”

     “Fine! She wants in?” Alison whirled on Clara. Unconsciously, Clara leaned forward, and so did the Doctor. The answer was right there; the air crackled with tension in the moments before Alison spoke. Then finally, she said it.

     “We're clones. We're someone's experiment and they're killing us off!”

**Author's Note:**

> If it weren't for the fact that I don't have time for anything anymore and I just want to focus on one fanfic before getting back to original content, I would make this a long, proper fanfic.
> 
> As it is, all you get is this one-shot, and maybe a few short segments that I'll write when I feel like it.
> 
> Anyway, I'm shocked that no one has done this story idea before (at least, not that I've seen, I might just have missed it.) When I first saw Orphan Black, my thoughts went to Clara's whole "Impossible Girl" situation in DW, and how it could have been explained by her being part of Clone Club.
> 
> For those wondering, all the clones in this 'verse look like Jenna Coleman, not Tatiana Mansley. There is no Sarah Manning, Clara Oswald exists in her place, and there is no Mrs. S, Felix, or Kira.
> 
> As you can see, Beth is a cop in the far future. She lives in the 50th Century and has a vortex manipulator that she uses to visit the other clones. Alison and Cosima still live in modern times, and so does Krystal, who was the blond Clara ran into if you didn't catch that. Clarice is supposed to be Victorian Clara, I just thought this plot didn't call for her having the same name as Clara. I met get more into where all the rest of the clones live at some later point (and no, they don't all live in modern times.)
> 
> I also tried to fix some issues I have with Moffat's era. Namely, the Doctor is no longer a jerk who lies to his friends about things important to their own lives. So he tells Clara about having met versions of her before. And I tried my best to give Clara more of a personality than the sloppy "changes as the plot needs" personality she has in canon. I'll admit, I haven't watched since Twelve took over, so if she has more of a personality now I apologize. But I'm not impressed with how she was written so far in the show.
> 
> The title is a reference to both shows. "Swans" for Project LEDA, named after the Greek myth where Zeus turns himself into a swan to seduce a woman, and "Souffles" for Clara's tendency towards making souffles.
> 
> These notes have been a bit all over the place, I apologize for that. But yeah, I'll possibly write more of this soon. And if you want to turn this into a full-fledged, plotted fanfic, feel free, as long as you credit me (if you directly draw from the story as I've started it).


End file.
